Guest Author, Regan Walker : The Ship's Cat

The Ship’s Cat

by Regan Walker

http://www.reganwalkerauthor.com

What’s a ship without a ship’s cat, right? So, of course, my latest Regency WIND RAVEN, a pirate adventure set on a schooner (and other places) in 1817, had to have a cat. And it had to be a special cat.

It probably seems fundamental that a cat could be, and was, a valued member of the crew, particularly for ridding a ship of mice and rats. In addition to cats, sailors in the 18th and 19th centuries kept a plethora of animals as pets, anything they took a fancy to and could buy in any foreign port they happened to visit. No doubt such pets offered the seamen who were away from their homes for long periods a companionship the longed for. Of course, some of these pets ended up dying from lack of their normal diets, but that didn't stop the sailors from bringing them aboard. And there were other problems. Back then, no one spayed or neutered cats so a female cat might produce a litter from a shore leave liaison. Then, too, a shipboard tomcat would be inclined to spray urine, which probably added to the general scent belowdecks. That is one reason the cat in my story is a female!

Cats being cats, there were probably ship's cats that were aloof and half-feral, and then there were other ship's cats that were social lap-cats. The cat in WIND RAVEN is somewhere in between. Named “Dutch Sam’ for the English boxer Samuel Elias, who died the year before my story begins, and who was known as having the deadliest fists of any boxer in London, my ship’s cat has two huge white paws (with extra toes, don’t you know!). The crew of the Wind Raven thought it a fitting tribute to name their unusual after the boxer they revered.

Did you know that sailors believed that cats had an influence on the weather? Some believed these cats could start storms through magic stored in their tails. If a ship's cat fell or was thrown overboard, it was thought that it would summon a terrible storm to sink the ship and that if the ship was able to survive, it would be cursed with nine years of bad luck. Other beliefs included: if a cat licked its fur against the grain, it meant a hailstorm was coming; if it sneezed it meant rain; and if it was frisky it meant wind. Some of these beliefs are rooted in reality. Cats are able to detect slight changes in the weather as a result of their very sensitive inner ears, the same characteristic that allows them to land upright when falling. Low atmospheric pressure, a common precursor of stormy weather, often makes cats nervous and restless.

Traditionally the ship's cat was allowed to come and go at will when the ship was in port. If the cat was not aboard when the ship sailed, it might be there the next time the ship was back in port. After all, there are always plenty of rodents and garbage along the waterfront for the cats to survive in between ships. For an independent cat like Dutch Sam, the arrangement was perfect, and she promptly attached herself to the Captain Nicholas Powell, the hero in my story, following him back to his ship when it was in port in St. Thomas. Of course, during the story, her attachment to the heroine grows and she begins to take naps in the heroine’s cabin.

There are many famous ship’s cats, but perhaps my favorite is Blackie and that’s because of the man he impressed enough to set aside the cares of a world war to greet him. A man who impressed me enough to name my son after him. Blackie was the ship’s cat on the HMS Prince of Wales during the Second World War when the ship carried Prime Minister Winston Churchill across the Atlantic to Newfoundland in 1941, where he secretly met with the American President. As Churchill prepared to step off the Prince of Wales, Blackie (obviously recognizing a man worthy of his attention) approached Churchill. And, Churchill (obviously recognizing a discerning cat) stooped to bid the cat farewell. The moment was captured on camera and reported around the world.

In honor of the encounter, Blackie’s name was changed to “Churchill.’ Churchill was known to love cats and kept a succession of them at Chartwell, his home. His best-known cat during the war years was a big gray cat named “Nelson’ after England’s famous admiral. How wonderful is that?

Click for link

 Ordered by the Prince Regent into the Caribbean, English sea captain and former privateer Jean Nicholas Powell has no time for women onboard the Wind Raven, especially not Tara McConnell. The impudent American forced herself aboard, and so she’ll get more than she bargained for: Instead of a direct sail to Baltimore, she’ll join their quest to investigate a rampaging pirate, the infamous Roberto Cofresi.

But the hoyden thinks she can crew with his men, and though he bans her from the rigging, Nick is captivated watching her lithe, luscious movements on deck. Facing high seas, storms, cutthroats and the endless unknown, he must protect his ship, his passenger, his crew. But on this voyage, with this woman, there is a greater danger: to his heart.

Excerpt – WIND RAVEN – The Storm begins

“You wished to speak to me, Captain?” Tara tried to remain calm, but being alone with the man who had kissed her twice was, to say the least, disconcerting. She tried not to look at his bed. He leaned against his desk, crossing one booted foot over the other. The sight of his black hair tousled by the wind and his golden eyes framed by his dark eyebrows scattered her thoughts.

“I want you below decks and in your cabin when the storm hits, Miss McConnell. You might even want to tie yourself to the bed so you’re not tossed to the deck. It’s going to be rough.”

“This isn’t my first storm, Captain.” Surely the man must know by now that she could pull her own weight with the crew.

“Perhaps not, but it’s your first storm aboard my ship, and I’ll not be taking any chances with your safety. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.” He was staring at her as if he wanted to say something more but then shrugged and pushed away from his desk. A sudden lurch of the ship brought her careening into his chest. He steadied her with his hands on her upper arms and, for a moment, stared into her eyes, then at her lips.

Instead of letting her go, he drew her more tightly against his chest, his golden eyes boring into hers. “I don’t seem to be able to resist you this close, Miss McConnell.” She felt the heat between them as he bent his head and kissed her, a kiss as fierce as the storm she knew was fast approaching. Her body seemed to come alive as his arms held her. His lips lifted from hers.

“I wish I had time to show you more, but right now my ship requires my attention.” He set her away from him and, reaching for a chart from his desk, swept up the rolled document and strode from the cabin as if the ship wasn’t rolling beneath his feet.

Tara gripped the edge of his desk to steady herself, and not just because of the swells that had the ship constantly dipping and lunging. Damn the unmitigated gall of the man! What made him think he could kiss her whenever he wanted? More troublesome still, why had she let him?

 Wind Raven - Nook

Wind Raven - Amazon

You can find out more about Regan and her wonderful books here:

Regan's links:

Website: http://www.reganwalkerauthor.com/

Blog: http://reganromancereview.blogspot.com/

Twitter: @RegansReview (https://twitter.com/RegansReview)

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/regan.walker.104

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6450403.Regan_Walker

Florence Nightingale and a Dog Called Cap

How did a sheepdog influence Florence Nightingale’s career?

Florence Nightingale as a young woman

Born in 1820, Florence Nightingale was an extraordinary woman who defied her parents’ wishes and became a nurse. Her work overseeing disease control and hygiene in hospitals was ground-breaking and laid the foundations of modern nursing.  Amongst the soldiers she cared for during the Crimean War she became affectionately known as ‘the Lady of the Lamp.’ After the war, Florence returned to England and established a school of nursing at St. Thomas’ Hospital, London. Such were her contributions to medicine that in 1907 she was awarded the British Order of Merit – the first woman to be so honoured.  Yet all this may not have happened had it not been for a chance meeting with a sheepdog.

Florence doing ward rounds at night.
The Lady of the Lamp

Florence came from a well to do family with homes in both Derbyshire and London. She lived at a time when women from wealthy families were expected marry and have children, and most certainly not work for a living. However, an encounter with a sheepdog called Cap, triggered a series of events that led to Florence defying convention.

Portrait of Florence Nightingale - approx 1854

When Florence was 17 she went for an afternoon ride with a clergyman companion, in the countryside near Matlock, Derbyshire. Florence liked dogs and often stopped at the cottage of a local farmer to fuss his sheepdog, Cap. However, on this occasion Florence discovered all was not well.

Earlier in the day Cap had been asleep on the cottage doorstep when some young lads happened past. For whatever reason, heaven only knows why, they threw stones at the dog. One rock hit his front leg and hurt the dog such that he couldn’t walk on the leg. The farmer, Roger, was a poor man and whilst he needed a working dog he could not afford to feed a pet. Florence was horrified to learn that Roger assumed the leg was broken and intended, later in the day, to put Cap out of his pain and hang him.

Florence’s companion convinced the farmer to let him examine the dog’s leg. He realized that instead of the bone being broken it was severely bruised. The clergyman instructed Florence on how to apply a poultice and bandage the limb, and she convinced Roger to let her return the next to change the dressing.

Happily, just two days later Florence encountered Roger and his flock on a hill, with an excited and only slightly lame Cap at his side. This was the first patient Florence nursed back to health. The following night she had a dream in which she believed God was calling her to devote her life to healing the sick. This became her life’s mission – even if it was nearly a decade before she realized that dream and trained as a nurse.

King James I - Dogs, Hunting and the Nation's Discontent

Much has been written about the English Civil War and ordinary people rising up against the monarchy. King Charles I believed in his divine right to rule and his unilateral power to set religious practices for his kingdom. But it is Charles’ father, King James I who is the subject of today’s blog post. The reason? James’ attitude to dogs and hunting shows how out of touch the monarch was with his subjects and how the seeds of rebellion were sown.

Medieval hunts were confined to royal estates or private land

Prior to James I hunting was a well regulated pastime. The hunt took place in a royal park or on land owned by a nobleman. The huntsmen stood on wooden platforms or ‘pavilions’ and beaters forced animals forced through a narrow channel for hunters to shoot. Whatever the ethics of this activity the effect on local farming was minimal and the nobleman who arranged the hunt bore the expense.

However, with James I’s accession to the throne all this changed.

King James I- physically unprepossessing he liked
the presence that being in the saddle gave him.

James asserted, as William the Conqueror had, “a royal prerogative” to hunt. To this end it was expected all the subjects of his realm, from noblemen to peasants, would facilitate this sport. In practice this meant he was free to roam across any land he wished – and do tremendous damage in the process.

James wanted to hunt in the French style – which involved mounted huntsmen tearing across the countryside on horses. To this end he imported French hounds and fifty red deer from a forest in Fontainebleau. James’ detractors went so far as to say he spent his life in the saddle and in common with many country squires, hunting was all he seemed to care about.

“Does all go well with you? In all your letters I find not one word of horse, hawk or hound?”

Letter to James I

The royal hunt was allowed to ride over any land it desired.

In keeping with the French way of hunting with James placing restrictions on land owners and farmers. If the hunt was to pass their way he forbade the ploughing of land (furrows being a hazard to galloping horses) and ordered pigs to be confined (so their rooting didn’t create dangerous holes) Worse still, locals were commanded to take down any fences, walls or hedges that might obstruct His Majesty’s ride.

During the hunt itself mounted huntsmen and packs of hounds caused considerable damage – often trampling crops, damaging fences, destroying gardens and scattering flocks or herds of animals. But the disruption didn’t end there. Local common folk were ordered to provide workers to assist the hunt, taking them away from their work – if it was harvest time.

No thought was given to the damage to crops, livestock or land

In addition, a farmer was expected to provide food and fodder for all the royal party – which could easily amount to a hundred or so people. Attempts to appeal to the king to recoup their expenses fell on deaf ears. Indeed, during one hunt, a local hit on an ingenious way of getting the king’s attention – by kidnapping his favorite dog, Jowler.

Jowler went missing and reappeared later with a message tied to his collar which read:

“Good Mr Jowler, we pray you speak to the King, for he hears you every day, and he does not hear us. Ask that His Majesty be pleased to go back to London, or else this countryside will be undone. All our provisions are used up already and we are not able to entertain him any longer.”

Instead of taking note, James laughed the matter off and carried on hunting.

Farmers were expected to give the royal hunt free access to fields -
and might have his own dogs confiscated by way of thanks.

To add insult, the manner in which James acquired his hounds also caused distress. In 1616 he commissioned Henry Mynours, Master of the Otterhounds, to:

“Take for us and in our name [The King] in all places within this realm of England…such and so many hounds, beagles, spaniels and mongrels, as well as dogs and bitches fit for hunting the otter as the said Henry Mynours shall think fit.”

For an animal loving nation this was a step too far – especially as James seized some pet dogs to take part in another ‘sport’ he supported – bull and bear-baiting. To ensure there was no argument James appointed Edward Alleyn as “Chief master, ruler and overseer of all and singular games, of bears and bulls and mastiff dogs and mastiff bitches”. This gave Alleyn unlimited authority to seize whatever dogs he saw fit in order to send them into the ring.

Charles I - son of James I - following in his father's footsteps

People began to rebel. The officials whose job it was to enforce the dog levies, were increasingly opposed, some were even attacked and beaten. The local magistrates who were supposed to sentence the offenders, refused to put them on trial – the common man had had enough.

Another faction started to voice their discontent – that of the Puritans. They believed hunting was a sin. They referred James to the Old Testament and how God condemned King Nimrod – described as a mighty hunter. The Puritans argued that animals were provided by God for sustenance and to improve the world, and not to be treated cruelly and abused. As a concession to public pressure, James prohibited animal baiting on Sundays – but nothing else changed.

This brings us to Charles I and the English Civil War. When James I died and his son, Charles, acceded to the throne, just as his father before him Charles was inflexible when it came to matters of popular opinion. He believed in his divine right to rule as he saw fit and upheld unpopular policies such as dog confiscation that went to fuel the nation’s negative feelings and resentment toward the monarchy…

Samuel Pepys : Drunk and Disorderly?

Thence Jenings and I into London (it being through heat of the sun a great thaw and dirty) to show our bills of return, and coming back drank a pint of wine at the Star in Cheapside.

Samuel Pepys diary.

Samuel Pepys, famed diarist -
recording everyday life in the second half of the 17th century.

When Pepys casually mentions drinking a pint of wine in the same sentence as the thaw and the pub, it makes me smile. Apparently, Pepys didn't think imbibing such a quantity of alcohol was anything out of the ordinary, which arguably it wasn't.

In the modern age the majority of people reading this post will have access to clean, sanitised drinking water - but this wasn't the case in the 17th century world. Although germ theory (disease is caused by micro-organisms) wasn't discovered until the late 19th century, instinct must have warned people that drinking dirty water led to awful stomach upsets. As such, alcohol was consumed more widely, by everyone from children and servants, to labourers and royalty, and perceived as being safer to drink than water.

Cheapside in Victorian times - a couple of centuries after Pepys' day

Even though people didn't understand why, they perhaps recognised the result that the brewing process made water safer to drink.  Of course we now know that boiling water, fermenting and the alcohol itself have disinfectant properties on some water-borne bugs.

Was the Population Permanently Drunk?

Possibly!

However, 17th century alcohol wasn't as strong as the modern equivalent. One reason for this was that the yeasts weren't as hardy as our modern varieties, and less tolerant of the alcohol produced during fermentation. This meant that the brews were naturally limited in strength, because once they reached a certain level of alcohol, the yeast died and the process stopped. Incidentally, these yeasts made for a cloudy drink, rather than the clear ales and wines of today, but the cloudiness was disguised by metal tankards or frosted glass.

As an aside, the small beer or wine produced was much sweeter than modern brews. Again, this was because the yeast died before all the sugar was converted to alcohol. Also, it is interesting to reflect that grain stores were vulnerable to spoilage by rodents -so the safest way to protect your harvest was to convert it to beer, which preserved the sugar and calorie content! (Don't forget, sugar was hideously expensive commodity.)

Apologies - couldn't resist this one! 

So was the population permanently drunk? Perhaps. But one knock on effect for Pepys could be that the quantity of alcohol he consumed contributed to the formation of his bladder stones.

And finally:

In this excerpt we learn that Pepys drank at the Star in Cheapside. Amongst the general population literacy rates were low and people liked places that were easily identifiable with a picture. Hence pubs, such as the Star, Bull or Bell, denoted with a painting on their sign were popular.

Pub signs, such as this one for 'The Boot' were pictorial
at a time when literacy rates were low.

The Tudor Kitchen at Hampton Court Palace

In February I visited the rediscovered Chocolate Kitchen at Hampton Court Palace and whilst there, I took the opportunity to investigate HCP's magnificent Tudor kitchens.

My current WIP (work in progress) is set in a Georgian kitchen (pssst, just for you - a sneak peek at the cover) and so I was keen to soak up the sounds, smells and sights of the kitchens at Hampton Court Palace.

Due for release - summer 2014

"The usual daily consumption is 80 - 100 sheep and the sheep are very big and fat - a dozen fat beef, a dozen and a half calves, without mentioning poultry, game, deer, boars and great numbers of rabbits."

A Spanish visitor to the English Court, in 1554

Hampton Court Palace is a place synonymous with King Henry VIII. When he held court there he was joined by a small army of courtiers who brought their servants with them - all of whom needed feeding. This involved storing and cooking huge amounts of meat, fish and vegetables, and each item of food was stored in a designated store: The Flesh Larder for meat, The Wet Larder for fish and the Dry Larder for less perishable goods. It was down to a kitchen staff of around 200 people to prepare the meals in the Great Kitchen and once cooked, the finished dishes were garnished in the Serving Place.

In 1526 around 600 courtiers were entitled to take their meals in the Great Hall or common dining room ( the King ate in his private apartments). Those of people of lower status such as general court servants, grooms and guards dined at 10am and 4pm, and the most senior man at the table served the food (a bit like doling out school dinners!) 

Higher status courtiers ate next door in the Great Watching Chamber, which was more akin to a restaurant with finer dishes and more variety. In addition, around 230 domestic servants were entitled to rations, but not allocated a place to eat and so most likely took their food to their work station or lodgings. 

"God may send a man goode meate, but the devyll may sende an evylle cooke to dystrue it."

Andrew Boorde (1490 - 1549)

As you can imagine to prepare such quantities of food took a lot of organisation. Indeed, food production was just that, a kind of factory like process. As an example take the making of a pie: pastry cooks made the case, butchers prepared the meat filling, which was then cook by the boiling house staff. The cases were then filled and baked in the pastry ovens and cooked, sent to the servery for garnishing then taken to the diners. 

A large part of the diet was made up of meat, which was prepared in a variety of ways from roasting, boiling and stewing, to griddling (similar to barbecuing). Roasting was relatively expensive since it required a lot of fuel to heat the huge open fires, plus a man to turn the spit to make sure the meat cooked evenly. 

And finally, the food consumed needed to be washed down with something and this frequently took the form of beer. The average annual consumption of beer for the Tudor court was 600,000 gallons! 

Turnspit Dogs : Every Dog has his Day

Note the dog in the wheel near the ceiling.

“How well do I recollect, in the days of my youth, watching the operations of a turnspit at the house of a worthy old Welsh clergyman in Worcestershire, who taught me to read.”

Anecdotes of Dogs, Edward Jesse, 1870

 

Before the use of dog-power, spits were laboriously turned by hand

This week’s blog post is about the ‘Turnspit’ dog – a breed now extinct. It was the purpose of these dogs to run inside a wheel which in turn powered a spit used to roast meat. Prior to this automation  roasting meats had to be turned by hand which was both labour intensive and unreliable. The invention of a dog-powered device was hailed as a great improvement.

“A dog…by a small wheel, walking round it and making it turn in such a manner that no cook or servant could do it more cleverly.”

Johannes Caius – 1576 – Royal physician and dog expert.

In the mid 1700’s Carolus Linnaeus mentions a breed of turnspit dog and later still, Charles Darwin mention their short legs as an example of genetic selection. Since the dogs had to work in a confined space short legs and heavy bodies gave them an advantage to turn the wheel. In France the breed were described as ‘Basset a jambs torses’ and pictures show a short-legged dog with a long heavy body somewhat similar to the modern Basset Griffon Vendeen.

“The Turnspits are remarkable for their great length of body and short and usually crooked legs. Their colour is generally a dusky grey spotted with black or entirely black with the under parts whitish.”

Bingley’s Memoirs of British Quadrupeds 1809

 

An example of a dog turnspit - From the White Hart Inn, Bath.

The work was hard, hot and lacking in stimulation. Whereas other working breeds had the thrill of chasing rats or pointing out game, the Turnspit dog did his work out of compulsion and a likely scolding if he slacked in his task.

“The poor animal…went about his employment like a caged mouse or squirrel with his recreation wheel…revolved in a treadwheel, which in this instance was connected with apparatus for turning the joints roasting at the fire and formed not so much recreation as extremely hard work.”

Charles G Harper – The Old Inns of England - 1906

 

See the detail above (wheel in top left hand corner)

Numerous stories exist of dogs evading their work, as mentioned by a Mr Wigstead, when writing about a pub in Newcastle where he observed:

“Great care must be taken that this animal [the Turnspit dog] does not observe the cook approach the larder. If he does, he immediately hides himself for the remainder of the day.”

In a large household where particularly heavy joints of meat were roasted, often two dogs were used, each alternating for a few hours in the wheel, or else worked on a ‘day-on-day-off’ basis. These animals soon became accustomed to this routine and if called upon to work on a day other than his usual, would hide away. Indeed, this regime is thought to be the origin of the phrase “each dog will have his day.”

Whether as testament to a dog’s intelligence or the drudgery of the work, other stories are recorded, such as that told of the kitchen of the Duke de Liancourt who had two dog-powered turnspits, used alternately. One day the ‘working’ dog went missing and so his companion was forced to work two days in a row. At the end of his duty, by wagging and whining, the dog took the kitchen staff to where his lazy companion was hiding and flushed him out.

A similar tale exists of a cook who couldn’t find the dog whose turn it was to work the spit and so attempted to put his favourite dog in the wheel. This dog rebelled and ran into the garden, found the missing dog and drove him inside where the latter went of his own accord into the wheel.

'With eagerness he still does forward tend, 
Like Sisyphus, whose journey has no end.'
- anonymous poem, Upon a dog called Fuddle, turnspit at the Popinjay, in Norwich

 

A prototype dog-powered sewing machine!

Even when not working in the kitchen, Turnspit dogs were put to other purposes. An old story exists of some turnspit dogs from Bath, who on cold Sundays were taken to church to be used as foot warmers. However, on one occaision this backfired whilst the Bishop of Gloucester gave his sermon and sited the line “It was then that Ezekial saw the wheel…”. On hearing the word “wheel” the dogs ran off, associating it with work to be done!

However, not everyone was oblivious to the hard lot of the turnspit dog. In 1866, Henry Bergh, founder of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, sited the dogs’ treatment as tantamount to slavery. He abhorred how the dogs were forced to trot for hours next to a blazing fire, with no access to water – and if they were tardy about their task the cook might even toss a hot coal onto the treadmill platform to enliven their paws.

 

Dogs were used to power other devices - such as a butter churn.

And finally, on a brighter note, in Robert Chambers 1869 “Book of Days” he recounts an anecdote about an 18^th century ship’s captain. When the captain docked at Bristol he became angry with the locals over their lack of hospitality to his crew. In retribution, under cover of darknes he sent his men to steal all the town’s turnspit dogs. When the roast meat was all gone and the crisis became acute, the townsfolk apologized, opened their doors to the sailors and the dogs returned.

The Georgian Chocolatier Grace Tosier - and some Historical Chocolate Trivia

Q –      When was the first chocolate bar created?

Was it: 1649, 1749, 1849 or 1949?

Answer at the end of this post!

In last week’s post about the awesome chocolate kitchen at Hampton Court Palace, we were introduced to Thomas Tosier – chocolatier to King George I. But the story doesn’t end there as Thomas had an enterprising wife, Grace Tosier, who was something of a phenomena in her own rite.

Grace Tosier with her trade mark wide brimmed hat and
posy of flowers at her bosom.

Grace seems a larger than life character. A portrait of her exists which shows a jolly looking woman wearing the trade mark large brimmed hat and a posy of flowers in her bosom. Whilst her husband worked for the king at Hampton Court Palace, she ran a successful chocolate house in Greenwich.

In the 18^th century chocolate houses were a bye word amongst the upper classes for luxury, sophistication and good company. Grace was canny enough to recognize that when it came to cocoa and Tosier’s links to the king, their surname was a brand to be reckoned with. Indeed, when her husband died and eventually she remarried, she valued it enough to retain the name Grace Tosier.

The chocolate kitchen at Hampton Court Palace -
it was here that the actual cup of hot chocolate was created.

Grace’s story is interwoven with the history of chocolate. Historically, the invention of chocolate bars is relatively recent, and for two thousand years cocoa was consumed as a beverage. The practice first took place in Mexico, when the court of Montezuma, king of the Aztecs, consumed a post-prandial chalice of chocolate which was decanted from one vessel to another until it gained a frothy head.

To create the beverage the sun-dried, roasted in earthen pots, the shells removed and the kernels ground over a fire. The heat turned the powder to a paste, the flavouring added and the mix formed into cakes which was left on banana leaves to dry ready for storage. To make the drinking chocolate the cakes were crumbled into water, heated and whipped up.

Cocoa pods and beans.
The cocoa harvest was considered unreliable and so the plants
were grown beneath banana trees for a second revenue stream.

The Aztecs gave chocolate to warriors in blocks coloured with annatto, a red dye, which stained the lips and tongue in symbolism of human blood (the Aztecs and Mayans had a penchant for human sacrifice!)

“The lips and part of the face around them, are covered with the foam, and when it has been coloured with annatoo it looks horrific because it is just like blood.”

Gonzalez de Oviedo, writing in the 16^th century.

For a long period the Spanish kept hot chocolate secret with such success that when in 1579 British buccaneers stopped a Spanish ship, they tipped the cargo of cocoa beans overboard as worthless. But by 1660 the Europeans had cottoned on to what they were missing and drinking chocolate became hugely popular.

Books of recipes appeared as early as 1609, as people experimented with ideas such as replacing cornmeal as a thickener, with ground almonds. The Aztec frothiness was mimicked by using a special swizzle stick, or molinillo, and indeed later chocolate pots can be told apart from coffee pots by the hole in the lid through which the molinillo was inserted.

Hot chocolate pots on display at the chocolate
kitchens at Hampton Court Palace

In the mid 17^th century via a succession of royal marriages chocolate drinking crossed through Spain, Portugal, Italy, France on its way to England. The drink was sold in chocolate shops which were an environment for the wealthy to discuss business and some gained reputations for being breeding grounds for radical politics. In 1675 King Charles II felt so threatened by the hotbed of chocolate houses that for a short time he closed them down. One can imagine the uproar of the public being deprived of chocolate – and they soon reopened.

And finally, the answer to the teaser question:

Q –      When was the first chocolate bar created?

Was it: 1649, 1749, 1849 or 1949?

Answer at the end of this post!

A –      1849

            The first chocolate bars were not announced with a fanfare, but created as a means of using up waste products left over from the manufacture of cocoa powder for hot chocolate drinks.